Tick for Tack
by Desdemona Kakalose
Summary: Wanna know the REAL story? Hear it straight from the Irken's mouth: Reincarnation, cloning, alien romance! We got it all, ya dig? .ZADR, mild. Dib trades information with Zim. And, there's a little thing called Johnny the Homicidal Maniac...
1. The Notes of Doom

Part One: The Trade-off-

Being an exploration of the Irken Ways and the Life and Times of Dibberton Membrain, as regailed by the Boys Themselves with much Romantic Fumbling along the way.

**A/N:** I just want to thank xxDeathbyDiscoxx, who was the beta reader for the shitty first edition of this story. she tried to fix it, but I was too stubborn. Hats off to you Disco. You knew what was up.

* * *

In a classroom, in a school, somewhere in North America. Like in any classroom of this vague geographical region, buzzing, rattling, droning and the occasional shriek fill the spaces--and that's only the teacher. Two desks from the right side and one desk from the front, sits a boy with shoulders hunched and head bent, a single lock of hair obstinately obscuring his ocular intake.

If you had jumped two years into the past, you would have noted that the unusual hairstyle had basically inverted itself. If you were any of his acquaintances, you would have asked about a hundred times why the hair flopped in front now, instead of back and on top like a strange mutant fin, the way it used too. And If you had, you would have been told, at least a hundred times, that the price of hair gel was just too damn expensive and would you get out of my face already?

Or something of that nature.

So anyways, there was Dib sitting up front and utterly bored and fervently praying for a miracle with every ounce of his excruciatingly fed up gray matter. It went something like this:

_Dear god or Satan or whoever the heck is in charge of this sort of thing, please, please, PLEASE allow something, anything, to happen, as long as it relives this unending BOREDOM. _

_Amen_

Well, no sooner had he thought those words when out of nowhere came a flying ball of DOOM--no wait, false alarm, it was just a note. Dib, being a naïve and hopelessly positive kind of boy, didn't even stop to _think_ that the note might be a "u r crazy!" sort of letter, the sort that pushed him just a smidge closer to the edge with every reception, and opened it immediately.  
**  
_'Bored, earth-stink?'_**

Oh, so it was Zim…. Well, that settled it; Satan is defiantly in charge of these matters. Still no use in letting a prayer go to waste.

**_'Well DUH ...Aren't you?'_**

Zim opened the note. _Of course I am_! he thought, _only a sniveling dirt-nosed-earth-monkey would enjoy this torture.  
_  
So of course he scribbled back:

**_'NOOOO! I am learning valuable information, which will be used to RULE YOU ALL!'_**

**_'Jeez Zim,'_** wrote the bemused paranormalist, **_'you can't even write without screaming'_**

_'You bore me human! tell Zim something of interest'_

The boy frowned. What would the megalomaniac actually care about? The green-skinned idiot took egocentrism to a whole new level, not to mention his complete pig-headed stubbornness. It was, in fact, impossible to impress Zim—no, wait, he lied. Zim had been impressed by his mechanical armor, that one time… and his non-Newtonian blaster… and the Doom Wheel at summer camp… huh. He was starting to see a pattern.

**_'Why should I tell you anything?'_**

**_'Because I am Zim!' _**

**_'You should know by now that's not going to cut it.'_**

**_'Fine _****(**insert a scribble here**)_Fine,_ Child, _how about I tell you something in return? Only because I am so AMAZING that I know you're dying to know.'_**

Dib thought about it._ I can't just give away my blueprints! And he wouldn't care about my other paranormal investigations… I guess I'll have to tell him something, ugh, personal about me. _Dib shook his head, knowing that he'd do just about anything to escape the boredom at this point.

**_'Well, you know how you've never met my mom?'_**

**_'Zim has noticed this…'_**

**_'That's because she ran away.'  
_**_  
**'"Ran away"? You were holding your parental unit hostage?!?!'  
**  
**'No! It's just a phrase. What I mean is that when I was really little she got sick of my dad and me. And Gaz, I guess…'**_

'**_Your giant head probably bothered her.'_**

'**_My HEAD ISN'T BIG! And no, that's not why at all.'_**

'**_Then what was it?'_**

'**_She up and decided that she was a lesbian, so she ran off with Gretchen's mom.' _**

**_'Gretchen… the metal mouthed one who smothers you in meat based love?'_**

**_'Yup'_**

**_'Ewww'_**

**_'Yup'  
_**_  
_At this point the bell rang, and the children who had been so listless and dead-looking only moments before jumped to attention with frightening gusto. Rushing for the windows and air vents, they nearly trampled the teacher--a teacher who'd been cut off mid-lecture on why you shouldn't leave the second that the bell rings.

Ain't irony grand?

As the scary, _scary_ little seventh graders started to file out, Dib walked over to Zim, who was at that very moment trying to eliminate all evidence of the conversation-- via ingestion.

"Hey Zim?"

Zim looked up. The sight of a green, earless boy trying to EAT a piece of noted paper was so comical that Dib nearly burst out laughing. He managed not to, though, because then he might never stop.

"You do know lead is poisonous, right?"

Zim spit out the paper in a hurry.

"So, to my reckoning, you still owe me some info," Dib prodded, leaning over the desk.

"What kind of 'info' do you… have in mind?" the alien replied, looking suddenly nervous. As per usual, he hadn't really considered his end of the bargain.

"Since I'm pretty sure I have all your current plans figured out, and I know you don't have a 'personal history' you'd _ever_ share, how about some cultural stuff?"

He picked up Zim's books and headed for the door with the Irken at his shoulder.

"Well," considered Zim, as they headed down the hallway "I suppose I could tell you something about..." he wracked his brain for the most useless but hopefully interesting piece of knowledge he could find. "I could tell you about my Tallest!" he offered as they turned the corner.

"Oh yeah! If I remember correctly, they're just taller than everybody else, right?" They headed for the big front door.

"Hardly JUST taller. But yeah, pretty much," Zim agreed with a huffy air, as if he was just barely tolerating Dib's lack of reason. Because he was _so_ superior.

"Okay, what can you tell me about them?" Dib inquired, as they marched through the door and headed for the picnic tables.

"Well, have you noticed how they only have two fingers?"

"Err…." Dib scrunched up his face and searched his memories for one of those instances. "Yeah, I think so."

The two took opposite seats under a blooming cherry tree; Dib's backpack crashed onto the timber tabletop.

"Well, when they reach their first year without a growth surge… spurt…what an icky word… and they get initiated, the control brain in charge chops off the middle finger--" Zim mimed chopping off his second finger with a knife.

"Wow. Seriously? That's surprisingly barbaric for--hey! What do you mean 'final growth surge'?"

"I mean exactly what I said; the last surge of- no, wait, I forgot. You under-evolved life-forms of _muck_ grow—blah--_gradually_. Have I mentioned lately that your biogenesis is _lame_?" He leaned back in his seat and nearly fell off. Apparently he forgot that picnic benches have no backs.

"Whatever. So Irkens grow in random blasts of height? Isn't that… I dunno… painful?"

"No and no. They aren't random, they occur about the same time every two years--OUR years mind you--and our bodies are adjusted to block out nerve responses during that time. Not that I expect a filthy _earth_-pig to understand…"

"Of course not…so why do they cut off the middle finger? There has to be a reason…" Dib rested his head in his hands.

"To prove that they can rule the planet with only two fingers! Only a truly great leader can do that." The invader smirked in his trademark fashion, infinitely proud of his 'glorious leaders'.

"Erm… okay… I'd think it was more meant to be metaphorical but alright, you're the alien…" Dib sat up straighter and stretched.

Wind bounced through the tree overead, and it seemed like pretty much a perfect afternoon. How could it not be, when he was learning things about his archenemy's culture? Things about aliens! And, besides, it was kind of fun spending time with Zim... once his ears adjusted to the decibles.

"I suppose…" he said finally "that it's my turn again, huh? I assume you're not interested in our science, right?" Dib inquired, pretty much knowing the answer.

"Of course not! The almighty Zim has laughed at your technology before, and he will do so again!" This statement was followed by a fit of maniacal laughter, as if to prove his point.

"Okay, moving on," Dib sighed, stood up and leaned against the small tree behind him. "Um, well aside from that, there's only… The Secret." Dib suppressed a giggle as he watched Zim's contact covered eyes widen.

"What is this secret? Tell it to meee…" The alien's voice dropped three octaves mid-sentence, making little grabby motions with his claw-like fingers.

"Alright keep your shirt on!" Dib tried not to sound too smug. "This is something no one knows except me, but I assure you, it's very true. I've kept it super secret from everybody, even myself--"

"Eh?"

"Do you want to hear it or not?" Dib gave him a critical look. Zim said nothing. "You see, a couple years ago, when my sister was infected with that pork spirit-"

"What?" interrupted the rather inept Irken. "When was this? What are you hiding from Zim!"

"I wasn't hiding it! How could you not remember? I came to _you_ for help!" The pale boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. How very typical.

"You speak LIES!" insisted the thick-headed invader.

"Come on! It was in all the news papers!" Dib fell forward on to the picnic table. "You gotta know about this! It happened right here!"

"No, you're just crazy." Zim crossed his arms smugly.

"I don't need this from you too! I—I… Oh, whatever." When you have to deal with Zim on a daily basis, you learn to pick your battles. "The point is, we went to the alternate dimension of the demon piggy lord, or whatever his name was, and I bargained with him to set Gaz free and lift the spell. But in return I had to serve her punishment for her." The self-proclaimed paranormal investigator cringed visibly with the memory, and muttered something to the effect of "So... Much... Clogging."

Zim looked confused.

"But anyway, when my term of service was fulfilled, I got to talking with one of the lesser demons in the building. He wanted to know why I was there, and I said I was replacing my sister, the scary purple haired girl. Do you know what he said?"

"Waffles?" Zim decided to hazard a guess.

"What? Wait- What? No! He said 'That girl wasn't your sister!' and I said 'Um, I'm pretty sure she is, I saw my mom deliver her'."

Zim gagged for a couple of seconds before subjecting himself to the rest of the story.

"So," continued the boy, "The demon says 'Really? I could have sworn she was Gazeline!' and I said 'Yeah she is, that's her full name'." The human glanced over at Zim who was looking back oddly as though in some state of torpor.

"Gazaline?" The Irken mumbled, "…Coincidence..."

"What, that he knew her name? Actually, I thought so too," said Dib. "But see, that Thing looked at me funny and then he said 'I don't think she's your sister after all.' and I thought about it ALL the way back..."

Zim cocked a non-existent brow at his trench-coat clad companion.

"The portal dropped me off like a mile from the city and... never mind... It's just that, when I got home, I went on the internet and looked up 'Gazaline'. I got that stupid 'look-up-people-and-invade-their-personal-space' offer, but more than just that, I got an article from one of the paranormal sites I like."

Dib paused pensively for a moment, and then added: "Not that it really matters, but there was something else about some old book like 'The Hobbit' or something crap like that... I'm not sure what the connection is, but I think the author must have heard of the story..."

Zim fidgeted on the bench, scraping paste from the rubber of his gloves. That was not a normal reaction.

Dib gave Zim a hard look. "The story, apparently, was about some sort of a Minor God thousands of years ago. She, well I think it was a She, was the balance keeper of the universe."

Zim jerked his head a little, like a twitch. Yeah, this was definitely suspicious.

"According to the story, She was cruel and tyrannical in Her justice, so 'all beings below Her rose up and imprisoned the Goddess' (yes, that was a quote, Zim) in some sort of... prison... thingy... to be released only once every eon, through reincarnation. I dunno, somebody up there had a fit of mercy or something. Myths. Nobody has a clear motivation."

"What's an eon, earth-scum?"

"Well, it's... that is to say... I'm not really sure." The human scowled. "It doesn't show up anywhere with an exact measurement, so how do you expect me to find the scale? Pull it out my-"

"HEY! You will remain respectful in the presence of ZIM!"

"Yeah, whatever. In any case, I did to a bit more research and DNA testing," Dib allowed himself a small smile "And I concluded that Gaz isn't… quite… human. Man, that took work! See, apparently the spirit world can bypass human limitations--even biology! Did you ever hear of the Jesus guy?"

"Um... yes? Wait! Yes! He was the one they tortured because he didn't agree with the 'religion' of the time. Has no one realized he was only four feet tall? He was shorter than you, and you _worship_ the loser!" Apparently Zim hadn't missed the lecture on "Height Before the Middle Ages".

"I'm not sure Christians would appreciate the loser comment, but that's the end of the story for the most part. However, the important part was the beginning. The story says that God gave his mother a child—Jesus--without ever involving a man y'see?"

"You humans are disgusting with your… _disgusting_… breeding!"

"Be that as it may, provided you take the story literally, it happened then... so it could happen again--namely with my sister." He sat back and waited to see if Zim would get the picture.

"Wha- oh..." It clicked, finally.

"In conclusion, I am not technically related to her—I guess you could consider it an adoption--and she's creepy like that because she's not even human." He shook his head knowingly.

"HA! I knew Zim couldn't be defeated by a lowly human!" The Irken exclaimed. "The mightiness of ZIM prevails over all mortal beings!"

"Ummm, yeah, sure." Dib rolled his eyes, "Plus, I'm not sure she even knows what she is. That obsession with pigs she has, probably comes from the Goddess's sacred animal being, of course, pig. Same with all the other freaky things she does. Jeeze, she's freaky. I think it's best if she never knows."

"Freaky indeeeed..." shuddered Zim.

"Yup. Now spill it! I want to know more about your people..." Dib went on, narrowing his eyes at the alien, "and why you seem to know who Gazaline was..."

TFT


	2. Irken birth

_Irken Birth (not speculation)  
_

"Um, yeah, sure." Dib rolled his eyes, "Now spill it! I want to know more about your people... and why you seem to know who Gazarath was."

"Err, Gazarath was... in our mythology too, just with some minor differences. And She liked us better, cause we ARE better! We were Her chosen people! So Chosen were weeee," Zim's voice grew steadily louder and more frenzied as he jumped on to the poor picnik table. "She commanded our glorious leaders to conquer the gallaxy in her name! CONQUER it! We would rule all and know all! Then we would free her and rule at the head of-"

He stopped abruptly. Dib looked at him strangely, and the alien turned conspicuously nervous.

"Oh... um, forget I said that! Zim said NOTHING!" he jumped off the table where his outburst had taken place, and sat down like nothing had ever happened.

Dib raised an eyebrow "If you insist. Just tell me something about your people that won't give you an epileptic seizure, if that's even possible."

"Oooooh... Okay, so you already know about how the PAK is attached to our spine, and how it contains our personality and most of our intelligence," he nodded wisely to himself. "So our brains are just sponges that absorb feed from them..."

"Uh-huh, yeah, of course, I totally knew that," the paranormalist agreed furtively, trying to hide the pad of paper where he had scribbled the last minute of conversation."What else can you tell me instead?"

"Uh, there is the... _birthing _process, which you mentioned earlier." Zim tapped his chin.

"Well, I think maybe not this time. No offence, but I already went through the _human _birds and the bees so-"

"Don't be stupid Dib-filth, Irken birth is not so disgusting as earthen creature's."

"Oh then yeah, that will work, I guess." Dib shrugged and rested his head in his hands.

"Well" Zim started, sounding like he was quoting a text book. "Irken birthing is a key aspect of how the glorious Irken Empire functions." His eyes glazed over, possibly remembering his smeet-hood.

Or maybe he was remembering a few years in the brain-washing chair or something, it was hard to tell between the glazed expressions.

"Irkens are not born naturally like lesser beings," he went on, "but instead in the huge birthing facility under the surface of Irk. Irken fetuses develop in the many tubes that line the walls until they are at the right stage for 'hatching'." He looked over at Dib to make sure he was using the correct term. "Automated machines remove the tube from the wall, crack it open to drop the young Irken Smeet to the ground, then place its Pak into its back."

"Why are Irkens born that way?" Dib asked curiously.

"Well just between us," Zim lowered his voice conspiratorially, "besides being an easy way to keep a constant supply of soldiers for the military, it gives the Empire complete control over its people. Which is the only way anything functions anyways!"

From anyone else, that might have been sarcasm. It wasn't. He spoke with an air of having been spoon-fed his morals since birth, and from what Dib had been able to discern, he probably had been.

"From birth, Irkens are fed all the information they need through their Paks, but they're only given what the Empire wants them to know."

"It sounds more like they're being brainwashed into accepting subserviant existances!" Dib was appalled at the new understanding. "That's... that's like Fascism!"

"No such thing! It's only a way to keep order among the superior race of Irk. Plus, tabs are kept on every Irken, so no one is unaccounted for, and everyone is put to full use." The alien said this as if it was the most natural thing in the universe. "It's the most natural thing in the universe."

_Maybe, a lack of individuality can be blamed on the way the Empire runs their lives_, thought Dib. From what he had seen (spying) they all acted about the same, except for Zim and maybe Tak, whom he'd only known for a short time.

"One question though," said Dib "Since there are birthing machines, why are all the Irkens different shapes and sizes instead of being a bunch of identical clone things?"

"Well, they never actually told us, but I know- because I am Zim and therefore worthy of praise- that the birthing machine creates Irkens by randomly combining all past genes..." he paused. "...Courtesy of the Control Brains which contain that kind of information about the Irken Ancestors. If the machines tried to use the same genetic information for all Irkens, then there would be no Tallest or social class system. Even you should understand that!"

The black haired boy decidedly ignored the jab, in light of Zim's generousness with information.

Not entirely unprecedented generosity. Whether Zim would admit it or not, he did trust the human, as much as he would ever trust anyone. When you spent time with the invader, you started to understand the more subtle (and civil) messages that weren't actually spoken. They'd been hanging out, here and there, for long enough now.

"Alright, you finished your part, so it's back to me I guess." Dib looked up at the school "One problem though."

"whazat?" Zim asked, still trying to pull out of the last conversation.

"The bell's going to ring in less than 5-" BRINNNNG! "-3, seconds" Dib stood and grabbed his backpack "C'mon, I have biology seventh period. We're on the reproductive... cycle..."

Then the irony struck him full force and he let out a rather girly giggle.

"Why are you laughing Dib-smell?"

"I'll, uh, I'll tell you later. See ya!" and he ran for the door without looking back.

* * *

**p.s. some facts credit to The Scary Monkey Show. com **â€


	3. Privacy Invasion Impending Doom 3

DARK

_The sky was dark, and Dib was alone in the street. All alone... like a lonely little alone thing. The boy looked down and saw that his innards were falling _out_ of his stomach with grotesque sloshing noises. He screamed. _

_A lot._

"HOLY F-" he started to say, but his head hit the floor as he rolled for his life, and the less than savory interjection was cut short. "...That is the _last_ time I read a note from Zim before bed." The hapless boy grabbed the offending note, which Zim had handed it to him on his way home from school, and tossed it into his trashcan.

The paper was liberally sprinkled with words like 'guts', 'mutilate', 'disfigure' and, Dib's favorite, 'disembowelment'. This, Dib suspected, was just Zim's way of showing he cared, but it was highly disturbing regardless.

"Zim" he sighed. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say this was psychological warfare."

The aspiring paranormalist stood, stretched, and took a look at his clock. 5:30 AM.

"Crap!" he exclaimed, "I'm never going back to sleep and that's two less hours of rest. How am I supposed to fight evil if I'm suffering from insomnia?"

Well, that question was wrongly phrased in two parts; A. Dib wasn't doing a lot of 'fighting' lately, and B. That's not insomnia.

What he didn't notice, over his own I-am-so-Pissed fit, was the thing crawling out of his trash. A thing, to be precise, made of metal with spider-like legs. If he _had_ noticed it, he would have considered how familiar it was. It traversed the length of his floor and snuck around behind his computer. The legs extended and a connection was made, all in less than a half a second.

Within the mainframe, Gigabytes of information swirled around, crashing into each other and draining down into the plug. The plug, which was, of course, Zim's little machine.

Not too far away, below ground, the Irken stood in front of his computer watching as the human's files flitted across his screen. A smile spread over his face, and he rubbed his hands together.

"GIR! Come over here and listen to my amazing words of DOOM!" ordered Zim.

The little robot toddled over shouting "Wheeeee! I gon' give it to da MOOSE!"

If this were an anime, Zim would've sweat-dropped. "That… made even less sense than usual."

"I knows it!" GIR squeaked.

"Umm… Anyway, with this plan, I will finally understand that _loathsome_ Earth creature, the Dib. In all my (amazing) life, I have never encountered such an enigma. He's so CONFUSING!" Zim put a claw to his forehead.

"You liiiiiike him, don't you Masta?" Giggled the SIR unit.

"What? Nooo! I do not like the earth smell!" He waved his hands frantically as if to ward off the idea.

His robot gave him a confused look. "But I thought you were friends…" Some things in life were just too complicated for his gum wrapper brain to handle.

"We may be 'friends' as you put it, but that does _not_ mean I like him. So DON'T SAY IT AGAIN!" Zim shouted.

"Ookiedokie." Came the fervent reply.

"Alright… I will now look deep into Dib's inner mind… thing." He shook his head vehemently and shouted to the computer: "Look through all his files and pick the most interesting ones, I don't want to waste my glorious time on some stupid 'Chicken-foot' story."

There was a moment of silence while the machine buzzed through Dib's… well, everything.

"Umm…" it stated, after a minute "I found a document full of 'paranormal sightings', an overused link to a chat room site and a file labeled 'Diary'. Which do you want to see?"

"Hmmm" mused the alien. "I think I've heard of this 'diary' before-" he put quotey fingers around the word _diary_. "On that _horrible_ Earth show…the one with the Earth girls, and the school and the ruthless acts of sheer loathing… and I think there were some cheerleaders…"

"Cheerleaders!" was shouted from the corner.

"YES! I will look at this 'diary' and it will show me the most complex and secret workings of the Earth creature's mind…I am Zim!"

"Oookay," the computer said ("Well," you say, "'said' isn't the right word..." But why do you care? You know what I mean).

The file was opened and newly translated words wrote themselves across the screen.

_Dear diary, _

_It's easy to lie…it's easy to hide and cover up the truth with facts, history, 'proof'. It's easy to deny, tell yourself something over and over to the point where you almost believe it. _

_To the point where you've lost the ability to tell the truth from the story, you can lie to yourself. It's easy, but it's no life. The hard part is going back and facing yourself. Somedays, it almost seems worth it, but I never do. I look at myself, and the world I live in, and I think, "Is my life really worth holding on too?" _

_No, I don't mean suicide; I quite enjoy living, I mean, obviously. What I mean is keeping everything the same. Is the alternative really so bad? I just don't know. _

_And to be honest, that's what scares me. If I stop doing what defines me as a person, am I still me? Is it worth lying to myself? Why am I asking you? You're just a stupid computer._

Zim's mouth formed a perfect 'O' and he just stood there, frozen, for the longest time.

"Well?" asked the computer "Are you going to say something?"

"I… can't even… _begin…_ to understand these primitive meatballs!" he said in a voice equal parts annoyance and awe.

"Ooooh, I dunno." Chirped the robot, "I think the earth boy's pretty smart. Lookit him bein' all questiony!"

"That's stupid GIR. He thinks too much. And about the wrong things too. That's the first thing they teach us in the academy- act first think later. Ha! He doesn't even grasp the most simple of all lessons."

"If you say so…" agreed the computer hesitantly.

"Of course I say so!" Zim stopped and looked at the screen a second time. "And what's this about lying? What would he have to lie about? A plan? I want to know his plan!"

"Zim, you're jumping to conclusions again," Warned the only voice of reason in the house. This was why it stayed quiet most of the time- no one listened.

"Maybe you're right… after all, the Almighty ZIM! Has no weakness to exploit…" He pondered for a moment. "So it must be more of these pitiful HYUMAN angst-ings. How I loath them…" Yes, Zim had a deep-seated hatred of angst; it was very un-Zim.

"Well," finished the alien "I shall continue my pondering UPSTAIRS! Release the Earthinoid's computer, or he may begin to suspect."

* * *

Back at Dib's house, as if on cue, the boy walked back in from getting a glass of water from the kitchen.

"Hey!" he shouted at no one, "Why is my computer smoking?"

* * *

**Ask me questions, suggest theorys! It's all good. Please, I really want some outside ideas!** **Oh, and this story is now on DA too. Wahooo!**

**Disclaimer: Show and characters Johnen Vasquez, faCts sort of belong to The Scary Monkey Show. com **â€


	4. Smeethood defect style

**alright ladies and gentlemen! Again: sorry for the wait. Sorry!**

**Disclaimer: Show and characters Johnen Vasquez, faCts sort of belong to The Scary Monkey Show. com, or they would if it was working! STOOOPID SITE! **

**So instead credits go to Wikipedia and www invaderzim .com. All details were verified using this questionable but oh-so glorius site. **â€

* * *

Two people, a boy and a girl, walked down the dirty sidewalk. "Why doesn't anything ever work out for me?" The male teen asked no one. One might say he was talking to the girl beside him, but upon closer inspection the mingled loathing and boredom of her pale visage, made it clear that his words were falling upon deaf ears.

"I mean, first there was that _awful_ nightmare..." he shook his head; oblivious to his sister's mumbling of "I'll show _you_ nightmares".

"Then my computer caught on fire! Well, not on 'fire' per say, but I still had to fix it. I bet it was ZIM! No, wait, why would he bother with my computer? It's got nothing of use to him... Oh, and last night there was that stupid woman on TV who was talking about giant squid!" He was getting riled up now.

"I mean, what? It was a monster for hundreds of years- to millions of people- and as soon as they 'prove' it exists, it's suddenly not a monster! How does a scientific name change what it _is_? Like, seriously, what?" He practically shouted the last word.

It probably would've gone on like that for a while, except that Zim had turned on to the same street at that very moment. That, as always, took complete control of every _single_ synapse in the poor kid's brain.

"Hey! Zim!" He shouted and ran to the alien, leaving his sister blissfully alone. "I need to talk to you"

"Zim has done NOTHING! It's all lies! LIIIES!" The thick-headed Irken yelled. Yeah, hear _that_ too many times, and you won't hear at all.

"Whatever Zim. I'm talking about that 'note' you gave me yesterday. That thing was messed up! I had nightmares!" He pointed a melodramatic finger in Zim's direction.

"Nightmares, eh? Are humans very susceptible to these 'Nightmares'?" He asked, feigning innocence poorly. It's hard to do that when _every single_ thought in your head is about killing, maiming, destroying, and stealing. In fact, do you know the old Viking motto: 'Rape, pillage, and burn'? Yes, that's Zim for you. An alien Viking of the highest caliber.

"Don't even think about it _Zim._" Dib crossed his arms, "And, yes, nightmares. I missed a lot of sleep! For that, you owe me a new piece of information." He hoped the invader wouldn't remember the last turn had been _his. _

"Uh... yes... Wait, NO! Zim owes the earth-stench NOTHING!" If he had books, he would have thrown them down. Actually, how did he go to School every day and _not_ have books? That was weird.

"Yeah you do. So tell me now, since we're heading to school together anyways." And he started walking, dragging Zim by the neckline of his shirt -a shirt changed only in that it was slightly longer, since Earths gravity coupled with defective Irken growth spurts had given him some height.

Zim was prepared to fight over this a bit more, but astounding Dib with his _amazing_ knowledge was the most fun he'd had since he injected those hamsters with radioactive jelly.

"Fine. Let me search my awesome brain for a suitable topic." Dib was amazed. That was unnaturally civil.

"Ah, got it! Zim has already talked about Irken birth, why not talk about smeethood?" It sounded like a question, but with Zim, you couldn't be sure.

"Sure, okay" Dib took a chance, apparently for good reason.

"Irk is a superior planet, so efficient, so monumental. The sky of Irk is pink, and there are _none_ of these... plants... you humans seem to obsess with growing. There used to be trees, I think, but I've never seen them. I've only spent some twenty years on the surface."

"Wait... twenty YEARS?" asked the incredulous boy.

"I mean _Irken_ years, in Irken years I'm older than any pitiful _Hyooooman _alive. An Irk year is..." He took a moment to count out in his head "... some six of your months- I think. I never got acquainted with your scummy calendar."

"Alright then" Dib was still surprised, even if he'd spent ten years on the surface, you had to account for years of military training and in-service time. He was way older than he looked.

_'Jeez'_, thought the human, '_How can such an ancient creature act so infantile? Maybe his maturity is affected by the people around him... first, those snack obsessed brain-wash-ees, then these stupid children... But then again, he _is_ sort of mature in an off-the-wall-and-also-criminally-insane sort of way…' _

Dib's musings were cut short by Zim's multiple inflections. He'd missed something important too; about water- did he say 'heavy water'? And lakes, underground lakes.

"And most Irken activity on our home world is below the surface," The alien was lecturing, "Where freshly-hatched Irkens spend their first twenty earth-years training with simulators underground."

"Um... simulators... got it..." Dib affirmed hesitantly. He wasn't really catching most of this.

"Zim has told you about the hatching, yes? Well, after being hatched, each Smeet-"

"Wait... 'Smeet'?" asked the confused paranormalist "I thought we were talking about Irken-... oh."

"Pfft, that took you long enough! Anyways, a Smeet is moved into the download chair, where the sum of all glorious Irken knowledge is given to them." Zim nearly tripped over a pebble on the sidewalk, so busy was he with the explanation. "Actually," the alien confided in a conspiratorial voice, "I think the stuff they tell us is full of errors- not to mention boring. The Irken Empire is mighty- OH SO mighty are we! But they don't even brainwash their citizens properly. It's lucky that our Tallests are so amazing, otherwise there might be some problems."

Dib raised an eyebrow. "If you were _really_ brainwashed, then how could you know that?"

"It's simple really: I AM ZIM! And therefore, awesome." he nodded smugly, "Anyway, I'm... different... from other Irkens. In a good way!" the invader added hurriedly, lest Dib get the wrong (right) impression.

Zim was a defective, no doubt about it. He knew, of course. The Irken had been aware of his state as a defective since the time he was Examined. The would-be invader didn't blame his Tallests- they were only doing their jobs. It was just fate. Fate, and his infernal PAK.

In any case, Zim considered himself pretty lucky. Brainwashed Citizens were all well and good in theory, but he preferred having the freedom to act stupid, and destroy randomly. It was what he lived for, actually.

"Zim... Earth to Zim..." Dib waved his hand in front of his 'friend's face, then stopped when the irony of his last sentence hit him.

"Man that's weird..." the boy said, stopping for a second- and incidentally running straight into Zim's back.

"AHH!" Zim yelled, "Watch it, Dib-monkey!" before noticing that the grubby brick of the Skool building was all of about two inches from his nose. "When did that get there?"

* * *

**Most of this really is cannon, but**** I took the heavey water idea from a DA member, hopefully the context is different enough that I won't get in trouble. I have an alternate theory explaining why water burns him. It involves pollution...**

"She said 'I can help you, What do you say? Oh, it's not free baby- you have to pay!'" -_Break me, Shake me,_ Savage Garden


	5. Injection of Fear from the Abduction

"Hate me, F- me, who the Hell are you? My needs are illegal, well, What can you do?"-_Injection Doom, _Feral Fairies

**alright ladies and gentlemen! It seems like I always make you wait... Sorry-SORRY! This time I was just lazy - plus, I recently got into not only **KiskeIchigo** but also **LxLight**. I know, I have issues. (though when you think about it, that last one makes a lot of sense)**

**Disclaimer: Show and characters Johnen Vasquez, faCts sort of belong to ****Wikipedia. All details were verified using this questionable but oh-so glorious site. **â€

**Why they shut down TSMS, I will never know. **

* * *

White walls encased row on row of black, slate-topped desks, symmetry broken only by dirty old sinks.

"'Once more into the breach, dear friends...'" Dib muttered solemnly, slinking through the doorway, books close to his chest.

"What was _that?"_ demanded a round eyed girl with ultra-shiny purple hair. "Are you bein' crazy again?"

"No! I'm quoting the _Inferno_, a novel written by..." he noted his classmate's vacant expression and gave a bruised sort of sigh "...I didn't make it up."

"oh," she replied automatically, attention span already stretched well beyond its natural limits. The distracted girl wandered over to her seat.

"I'm sane, you know!" he vainly called after her, waited a moment, and sighed again. The poor boy ambled passively over to his seat where his neighbor, Zim, already sat attempting to look 'normal'.

The two shared most of their classes, part of the complicated (and twisted) unspoken truce they had developed over the years. Either of them was free to plot anything they wanted and say whatever they wanted, as long as their opponent was in the same vicinity. Yeah, and it gets even more complicated, but if I tried to explain, your head would explode. Lord knows, we don't want that.

"Ah! Earth monkey! You have been once again unable to resist basking in the glory that is _ZIM!_" he punctuated this with a gloved fist punched into the air. Dib shook his head and almost smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah, basking, sure," The human rolled his eyes, whopping Zim on the back of his head with a flimsy paperback.

This, of course called for retaliation, and soon they were caught up in something akin to a pillow fight-but with test tubes and text books and moose, and whatever detritus they could get their hands on.

"Enough!" shouted their teacher, a young guy no more than thirty-five years old and already wearing thick, rimless glasses. "Jesus! I swear, if I actually cared about the well-being of my students, I'd have you two separated."

Dib looked slightly abashed, while his partner sat muttering dark obscenities.

"Today," the frazzled educator started , "We'll be working on an experiment involving potentially explosive chemicals. I would make you wear safety goggles, but I'm in a bad mood today and hoping one of you will blow up."

With that, the two-man groups headed up to collect their supplies.

"Hey Zim, do'ya think we need this green stuff or the blue stuff?" inquired the aspiring paranormalist, long since having realized 'real science' (especially chemistry) was one of Zim's talents.

"Neither," he asserted impatiently "We need the yellow goo."

"Okay, okay" Dib grimaced, grabbing a bag and returning to his desk. "So what do the instructions mean?" he wondered, deciding that the sheet was clearly written in some sort of Vampiric code.

"Ugh! Just let me do it," Zim snatched back the paper. "Y_ou_ can make yourself useful by taking your turn."

"My... turn? Oh! Alright, lemme see..."

The raven haired boy pondered a good subject while Zim poured lemony goo into the already toxic-looking mixture with terrifying gusto.

"Well... I do have _something_ you might be interested in," Dib mused, "I think I was abducted by aliens when I was a baby-Well, not a _baby_, exactly, more of a really little kid."

"What aliens would want an ugly little pig-smelly like you on their ship?" snorted the 'hyuman', "The only interesting specimens are-"

Dib tilted his head. _wait for it... wait for it..._

"I AM NORMAL!" -Ah, there it is.

"Well," the earthling shrugged, "I remember it, so it had to've happened."

He sighed, leaning his over-sized head in his hands. "I remember being in the park with my mother (this was before she left), and the sun had just barely set. Then out of nowhere..."

FLASHBACK TIME KIDDIES!-

In a small park on a hill where the wind blew steadily, a small boy and his mother stood, hand in hand. Her wind-whipped blond hair contrasted so drastically with his raven black, that if you didn't see how she held his hand, you'd think they were strangers.

From the whistling dark came the sound of strange music, and the wind flared up. The woman took a halting step back, mouth agape, then turned to run, but her son wouldn't budge.

"Dib, we need to go," she warned in a deceptively calm voice, eyes wide and panicked.

But the boy stood stock-still, and from nowhere a bright light shone in his eyes, blinding. He took a small step forward, tugging out of his mother's grip.

The light grew brighter until it blocked out everything else. He took one last step into the blinding white, then there was the feel of hands all around, lifting him up... up...

A strange smell... chemical, but not.

And blackness

-END FLASHBACK

"When I woke up," continued the teenager, "Everything was blurry. I saw blinking lights all around but it was so dark... then there was a spotlight on me... maybe a few, now that I think about it. And a hand reaching toward me... I can't really remember what color, but it was dark. And... uh..."

"And what, Earth-pig?" Demanded the invader, who was terribly interested despite himself.

"And... I was... um..." He hesitated, looking like he'd much rather be ripped limb from limb by a homicidal maniac. "I was naked..."

Zim's jaw slackened a bit and his face turned a surprising shade of chartreuse, expression like an anime character right before the blood shoots out of his nose.

"Zim?" Dib asked tentatively, hideously embarrassed. _How did I forget about that part of the story?_

But alas, Zim was beyond reaching. Suffice to say, he was a little _too_ interested at this point.

Well, after all, the alien had nothing if not a twisted mind. It's a good thing our Earth-boy is so clueless.

"Uh..." Dib scratched his head in a sheepish manor and attempted to wrap up his story before anything worse popped out. "So anyways, before anything could really happen this was this wailing noise and..."

FLASHBACK-

A crash reverberated throughout the walls of the dark room, and a wailing noise like a siren invaded every empty space.

Loud, synthesizer-esque voices assaulted his ears, and the shadows surrounding him skittered off into the darkness

The light in the little boy's eyes flashed off abruptly leaving him nearly blind, barely able to see the blinking red lights that dwindled with every passing second. He struggled to sit up even as the sound of heavy footsteps pounded in.

New lights flashed around the edges of his vision and the sounds swirled together. More footsteps, new voices, indecipherable words, lights flicker, the electric smell of cindered flesh shot through the air.

Then the lights faded completely. The booms buzzed together and the boy lost consciousness with one final flash of light.

-END FLASHBACK

"And I woke up in the park with my mother reaching down to me." He finished. "What's funny is, no matter how many times I asked about it, she would never talk. In fact, she would shudder and tell me to stop being childish... right up till I was seven and she left."

"That's crazy, aliens don't exist," came a nasely, female voice from behind them.

The two boys whipped their heads around to see the intruders. Sarah, the blue haired, homely girl with inexplicable popularity and Torque Smacky sat mere inches behind them.

"Sounds like you got _kidnapped,"_ added the obnoxious athlete.

Dib had a vague memory of telling Smacky about this before... but he forgot as the sentence processed.

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No, you said by _aliens;_ I meant by _humans_." He sneered. "Hey Sarah, wasn't there a scandal ten years ago? Something about a child-porn ring?"

"Yeeeah," she agreed tossing her perfectly dyed hair, "They busted it open when I was in preschool. No wonder you're so crazy. Dr. Phil Junior says that happens to people with trauma." the cretin mock sympathized.

"No!" shouted Dib, flailing his arms, horrified at the perversion of his cherished memory "It was aliens! I'd know, I would! The lights, the noise!" he jumped up, shoving his chair against the table and nearly knocking it over in the process.

"You have no right!" he shouted finger pointed inches from the girls nose.

"Dib..." Zim started, having been entertained up till now by the argument. Still, there was the matter of that rolling yellow goo getting dangerously close to the brown muck.

"Not now Zim, I can argue with you next."

"But Dib-smell, I need you NOW."

"FINE!" The human yelled, spinning to the side. "What is soooo important tha-"

The Irken sent a punch flying straight into the boy's face, effectively dropping his adversary to the floor, seconds before he followed suit. They hit the ground just as the sink exploded into green smoke.

The deafening BOOM was followed by an equally deafening silence. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two raised their heads to the multitude of overly-shocked students... and one VERY angry teacher.

A screech broke the silence: "WHAT the _Hell_ did you do?" the irritable man surveyed the damage. "How could you cause so much property damage and not even be injured?" he asked, as if it was a crime come out unscathed.

"Practice?" the two answered in unison; the class rolled their eyes knowingly.

"GET OUT!" screamed the teacher "Go to the principal-or Hell, I don't care!...That was just awful," he complained as he sank into his special 'teacher chair'.

"Actually," Zim confided as the rivals strode toward the door, "It was fun."

* * *

**And chartreuse is yellow-green, by the way. See his blood is pink- we all clear on that? And his skin is green. The blushing thing probably came from the unhealthy amounts of _Chibi_ _Vampire_ I've been reading.**

**Pink + green yellow/orange (depending on the shade) and since it's not a whole lot of blood, it oughta be a yellowy green color. Check _Planet Jackers_ if you don't believe me. And sorry if the Pedo thing freaked anyone out. Still, people who read _Angel_ should be prepared for this kind of thing.**

**Remember! Ask me questions, suggest theories! It's all good. (I have decided that Dib is Asian, by the way)**


	6. Furiosus et amor, one

Homicida Et Furiosus fuit Iohanus : Somnum suspecta

**This chapter is dedicated to **Teya Yashitoda **because she gave me an awesome idea. And I'm using one of her ideas next chapter too!

* * *

**

The Principal's office at Dib's School wasn't very big. The truth was, no one really got sent in. The middle school had gone down hill in the past twenty years, to the point where only the most dangerous, most annoying kids got a referral.

So there they sat, half bored and half nervous, as the clock tick… tick… ticked.

Dib took a good look around and, assured that they were alone, flopped down on the wooden bench. It wasn't quite the same as a bed, but he felt safer with Zim in the room than he did with his sister wandering the house. Was it any wonder he didn't get much sleep?

Zim on the other hand, was preoccupied with his surroundings.

"Where is that filthy Earth-pig? He has no right to leave Zim in this _disgusting_ place! Look, that clown picture is looking at me—IT WANTS MY LIFE JUICES!" He shrieked, diving under Dib's bench.

The human opened an eye and took a look at the offending painting. The black frame was filled with the terrible visage of a sneering clown. Its undead pallor stretched thin and its blood red lips split under matted green and purple locks.

The inscription read: "The Clown is watching you".

The teen shuddered. "I never did like that clown" He agreed, making a mental note to contact the Swollen Eye network about it.

But our alien had already moved on to something even more… _disturbing_.

"WHAT on Irk is _THAT_?!?" Zim demanded, pointing an accusatory finger out from under the safety of his bench.

Because there, in all its horrible, unholy glory, lay Doom incarnate.

"It's an apple-pear." Came the deadpan response.

And so it was.

Dib stood up tiredly and grabbed it off the secretary's desk. It was about the same size and shape as an apple, but the outside was pear-colored and dappled with white spots.

"It's nothing but a fruit." He assured Zim. "In fact, it looks pretty good," the boy grinned and bit into the mutant fruit, to Zim's eternal horror.

"Drop the fucking _apple_!"

The room froze. Dib swallowed his bit of evil and turned inch-by-inch.

"Hiiiii Mr. Principal." He took a couple of nervous steps back to where Zim was crawling out from under the bench.

"You two again?" he widened one eye and stared at them, fists clenched.

The Principal wasn't exactly a strong figure—in fact, he looked like a leaf could knock him over. Unruly black hair and black shirts, black buckled boots with black and white striped ties. It was all black and white with him, except the hazel eyes.

Nobody really knew anything about the guy. It was generally accepted that he was Mexican, and likewise that he was undeniably, clinically insane—which is why he got paid the big bucks.

Rumors abounded where facts were few. The boys had heard he killed students who talked back (No proof, of course). They'd heard he was a schizophrenic too, and carried on long talks with people no one could see.

They didn't even know his last name.

"So what the fuck did you do _this_ time?" He demanded with no regard to the school's 'no cursing' policy.

"We… uh…." Dib floundered.

"We blew up the science lab." The invader finished promptly.

"Hmmm… _Hmmm_… Well, it _is_ Tuesday… and Mr. Guyton is a bastard…." The adult flicked his eyes back and forth between the boys and his office door.

Dib tried not to look too hopeful. The man seemed to have taken a liking to the 'crazy' boy and his criminally insane friend, but no one (not even his favorite student) was safe from his fits of rage.

"Ooookay, you guys are off the hook. I'm going out for a Suckmonkey… the 7/24 SHUT DOWN YESTERDAY and nobody else sells BrainFreezies…" He fumed, clinching the bulge in his pocket.

Dib _really_ didn't want to know what that was.

"Eh? Oh, GIR likes those too." Zim mused, "He likes them… No, 'likes' is too weak. It's more like 'worships'." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, do y'know what flavors they come in?"

"It's usually some _disgusting_ cherry thing or chocolate filth." He shuddered.

Dib stood there in totally dumbfounded awe as he watched his Maniac of a principal carry on a casual conversation about _smoothies_ with his best friend who just HAPPENED to be out for world conquest.

It's times like these he wondered if he really WAS crazy…

"… And then I stuck a hook in his eye!" Chortled the older man nearly bend double with hilarity.

"That's genius! You have methods worthy of use by ZIM! And I don't say that to everyone." He confided.

The paranormalist shook his head. "That's for sure. In fact, I don't think you've _ever_ said that… You racist alien."

"LIES!"

"Truth!"

"No, it's _Liiieeees_. But I wouldn't expect you to know, dirt monkey." He shot his rival a superior look. "Can we come with you?" He addressed the Principal, "GIR is going to kill me if I come home empty-handed."

"I guess, if you want. School's almost out anyways. Just don't TOUCH my knives," And with that he strode out the door.

"Y'know, I really can't imagine what you were so worried about, Dib-human. An excellent specimen, your Principal C."

* * *

**Oh yeah! I went there!**

**I spent ALL DAY typing these two chapters. The next one will be put in this afternoon, when my beta gets back to me. **

**How many times can you write 'fuck' before it goes to mature? I really want to keep it here, but whenever you bring Johnny in, warnings follow. **

**Speaking of Johnny, how did I do? I've only read the first book, and he's such a hard character to master…**

**But I love him so much! I thought that would be a nice surprise, to throw in everyone's favorite maniac. I tried to keep it vague enough to let non-readers follow. After all, not everyone reads comic books about murderers in their spare time. **


	7. Furiosus et amor, two

**This is the second Half... WOOOO! I'm soooo sorry for the lateness. My Account broke again! I can't even count how many times it's happened.**

**Oh and Now it's time for me to whore out a fiction, because I'm not sure any of you read the last authors note... (I usually don't). First: _Invader Zim Christmas Carol_. It rocks my socks. They are dancing as we speak, in fact.**

**Second: _Falling Into Darkness!_ Read the frikin' story people! Look it up on te search engine, seriously.

* * *

**

The car was a rusty, steel monstrosity, liberally scattered with dents, peeling paint and suspicious stains.

It was weird, disconcerting, how Zim could look so at home in the back of this creaking metal death trap.

"Alright then, Mr. I'm-totally-not-bothered-by-sitting-in-week-old-blood-stains, why don't you take your turn now?" Rasped the freckled fourteen-year-old.

"Uhhh… Hmmmm…. Errrr…" The alien scratched his head thoughtfully and shrugged.

"Your TURN!" Dib hissed poisonously. He would've yelled, but he was afraid to invoke the quite possibly lethal wrath of the man in the drivers seat.

"I told you my most personal, most traumatic, secret and now you owe me!"

"How many times must I _tell_ you: _ZIM_ owes filthy earth-children NOTHING!" Zim said haughtily.

"Fine!" Snapped Dib, forgetting to whisper in his growing frustration. "Then do it because you said you would. 'Invaders never go back on their word', after all." The human crossed his arms tightly against his chest and waited.

"This is true…" Zim conceded. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. "Yes, that will do," He nodded and turned to his companion. "Remember how I spoke of the Tallests yesterday?" He began.

"Yeah, is this about them?"

"Yeeees, and you must _never_ tell of what I am… about to… tell you," The invader finished lamely.

"Alright," Agreed the boy, wondering how Zim managed to know so much stuff when he was _clearly_ not popular.

_Maybe he just notices things other people don't? No, that can't be it; he's far too out of it. Not to mention his stubbornness…but what if the secret was something he wasn't stubborn about?_

"They are amazing, and powerful, my Tallests. One cannot speak _too_ highly of them—ALL PRAISE THE TALLESTS!" He bellowed, causing the already unstable car to swerve haphazardly and hit an especially unlucky mailman before wandering back inside the lines. This apparently didn't faze the driver.

"All right! They're awesome, I get it!" Dib growled, rubbing his ears gingerly. Even after all of these years, he still wasn't used to Zim's outbursts. Often they reached barely tolerable decibel levels.

"Anyway, I noticed long ago that they have a strange relationship. They appear to be comrades, as shown by their constant bickering, but they never leave each other's side. That is not normal comrade behavior." The Irken paused.

"Noooo… I suppose not, but why else…. I mean what else…?" Dib racked his brain for a way to ask if Irkens could fall in love without offending Zim.

"They were obviously secret Partners," The invader informed him smugly. "But they can't admit it because the Control Brains would go crazy. It happens a lot, but it's not supposed too." He shrugged.

"So this is like… top secret?"

"Yeeees."

"Umm… Aren't they both… y'know… _guys?_" Inquired the profoundly embarrassed human. He was only fourteen after all and not exactly what you'd call "socially mature".

"Eh? Oh, no, not the way you're thinking. Irk, it's like talking to a Smeet with you."

"So sue me! No, actually, don't—I'm not in the mood. Try back tomorrow."

"Shut your filthy mouth and listen. Because natural smeets were hard to create even before the New Era, The Irken Machine gave every Irken the ability to reproduce, no matter who they happened to be stuck with."

"So… You mean…?" Dib recoiled in disgust, as the horrible truth dawned on him.

"Yes, Irkens are bi-gendered. It's a superior evolutionary strategy, not that we need help being superior. There is, of course, masculine and feminine, but it's all the same in the end."

The backseat was quiet for a moment as Dib processed this information (I.e. _OMG, that means Zim is Bi?_) and looked for a polite way to ask his next question. He shifted uneasily in the dirty, yellowed seat.

"I'm clear on that," the Earthling began nervously, "But you said 'even before'… and yesterday, you said something about removing genes… for that sort of thing… so…"

"Oh," The Alien rolled his eyes, "You want to know if we can… how do you primitive beasts say it? 'Get laid'?" The teen's face went from its normal deathly pallor to an unbecoming shade of fuchsia. He nodded sheepishly.

"Yes. Yes, we can. But Irkens do not 'love', nor do we permit any vulgar _human_-like displays of affection in our society."

Dib didn't point it out, but he noticed how Zim's speech flipped from 'we' to 'they' with striking regularity.

"But you _can_?" He asked uneasily. Curiosity killed the cat—satisfaction brought him back.

"Yeeees…"

"And yet you can't reproduce?"

"It's just a matter of removing some key genes. The ones that crea—"

"I'm REALLY not comfortable with this conversation." Interrupted the teenager.

"Neither am I," added a voice from the front. "It's impossible to block out the green kid, and seriously, the whole thing puts me on edge. If it wasn't so clinical... What kind of fuckin' alien _are_ you?"

But the only response was blaring silence, as the rivals gaped in his direction.

_Oh no, a human suspects me!_ Zim panicked in the safety of his own head._ I'm NOT going to use the self-destruct. Aren't humans supposed to be stupid? What's wrong with these people?!? Is it just the crazy ones who know anything?_

Dib, on the other hand, was less horrified and more shocked out of his mind.

_He…He believes me? Yeah, he's nuts, but he believes me! Wait… he heard that whole conversation?!?_

_That_ was where horror started to kick in.

"Okay, we're here!" shouted the psychotic Principal. The car slammed into a tree in the parking lot and the occupants were unceremoniously jerked forward. Thank god for seatbelts.

"… Mall time it is." And with that, Dib and Zim hastily vacated the terrible metallic vestibule.

The mall was huge. Colossal. _Gigantic_. It was really the size of a small city, with parking garages like giant labyrinths.

The looks they got on their way in could've melted paint off a truck. Though, now-a-days, there were very few cars to begin with, and even fewer trucks.

The point is, the little group was not well met.

"We sure are a odd bunch." Considered the only semi-sane person in the party. "I mean there's me, the big-headed crazy boy, and Zim the green-skinned, nose-less kid and then there's…"

He looked up at the school administrator, who was currently sending a death glare in one Mall-patron's direction.

"Never mind."

"I'll be back boys," the man informed them with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He then proceeded to stalk off in the direction of one emaciated prep girl. One who had, if you were watching before, been whispering to her equally starved companion and pointing in their direction.

"I guess we're on our own," Dib said, idly scratching his head.

"Uh-huh," His "friend" agreed, casting a look around the interior of the mall. His eyes widened. "Ooooh! It's an arcade! Take Zim there!"

* * *

**Okay Teya, do you see where this is going? (And in case you do read this: LOOK IT UP!)**

**-Loves-**

"...The things I used to love are not for sale. Keep yourself away--far way from me. I forever stay your _perfect enemy." -Perfect Enemy, _TATU


	8. To the Beat of my Heart

**I saw my friend Jupiter today! Whooohooo! She is the peanut to my butter.**

**I'm sorry this is so late (Yeah, two months late) but I had responsibilities and... well, this is my hobby, and when a hobby stops being fun, you should take a break. **

**BUT I do love you all, yes, even those of you who don't review after they read. Oh and, just to keep you on your toes:**

**JESUS WAS GAY!**

* * *

"Zim! Let go of me! I don't wanna go to the stupid arcade!" 

"Nonsense Earth-beast, it fills you with JOY! You just… don't know it yet."

"_Zim_…"

"Excellent! I think I see the Dance Dance Revolution!"

"I refuse to be subjected to this abuse! You can't do this to me! Zim? _Zim!? _Come on! You're despicable, you know…"

**Arcade **(är-'kAd): _n._ 1.A loud, dark, crowded, establishment full of outdated video games, usually coated in a suspiciously sticky substance, and existing for the purpose of entertaining geeky teenagers on otherwise empty afternoons. See: _loony bin_

Zim squeezed past several smelly gamers and into the arcade, still dragging his unwilling 'friend' by the hand.

Someone was already losing brain cells to the intoxicating beat of the DDR machine. Dib took this as a sign that God still loved him, even after the pudding fiasco last week.

"Hey! You! Meat Creature!" Zim shouted over the deafening electronic din.

"_Zim!_ Don't do this. Can we go…? " Dib begged.

"Get your filthy feet off that dance training simulator!" Zim continued, ignoring his captive's pleas.

With a look of great superiority, the dancing idiot blew the companions a very loud raspberry.

"Oh, well isn't that polite," muttered Dib.

"That does it!" screeched the alien. "No more will the pathetic inhabitants of this planet defy the will of all-mighty ZIM!" Finally letting go of Dib's wrist, Zim leapt at the dancing teenager with reckless abandon, latching onto his back and violently clawing at his face.

Dib considered running, but though better of it. The shadowy teen stood stock-still through the cacophony, watching as his rival sent the enemy running from the room crying like a fifteen-year-old baby.

"VICTORY! Victory for Zim!" The invader cackled, throwing his fists in the air and bowing to imaginary applause.

"That was delightful," said Dib, regaining his composure along with his sarcasm. "Now maybe we should go…"

"Nonsense…" chortled his opposite, this time grabbing both of Dib's hands and dragging him across the floor.

"But I _really _don't want to," insisted the human.

"Of course you do! C'mon, Earth-stench. The dancing-techno-pop-insanity awaits!"

* * *

"Zim, you've beat me four times in a row! Can we get out of here now?" Dib whispered, wary of the zombie stares of other DDR-slaves. 

"Hmm…." the invader seemed to be considering something seriously. "If the Dib will admit that the Irken race is far superior to your pathetic human race," he stopped and eyed the hoards of children surrounding the game station "—OF WHICH I AM A FILTHY MEMBER—then we can stop the game."

_I should, but then I'd be giving up a victory for EARTH! But on the other hand, I _really_ want to get out of here… But on a third hand…_

"Alright, the Irken race is FAR superior to my lowly race," conceded the human, slyly crossing his fingers. As if it would make a difference. It was the_ principle _of the matter.

"Another victory for ZIM!" the Irken bellowed, leaping from the platform in one terrifying, sweeping motion.

"Yeah, yeah, now lets get out of here. We still need to find Mr. C," Dib pointed out

"Not so fast… Zim has merely promised to end the game," said Zim, wrapping an arm around his best enemy. "A new deal must be made for escape from the hell of dancing meat creatures."

"Wha--?"

"Hey! Fag boys!" came the punch-drunk call of several sneering arcade-goers.

"Excuse me?" Dib peered over the top of his glasses, in an effort to appear condescendingly intellectual and righteously appalled.

"Yeah, you! What are you, gay? Heh, gay boys, fags, FAIRIES!" screeched the unpleasant youth.

"WHAT?!?" shrieked Zim in return. "Zim is no winged _filth _beast! And not gay either," he added after a moment.

"Oh yeah? Then why is your arm around your sissy friend? Huh? Huh?"

"The Dib is my fellow mall-go-er and he isn't 'gay' either!" the alien held an confrontational finger inches from the thug's face.

"Yeah?" the teenager responded, knocking away the finger, "Why don't you let him talk for himself?"

"Alright! Dib-beast, talk this nonsense from his filthy brain of cheese."

"Uh… I think I'll stay out of this one…" Dib shifted from one foot to the other unncomfortably.

"What? Why does Dib not wish to defend his honor? Is this not a great (if terribly shallow) insult to a male Earthling's pride?" The Irken flailed, accidentally knocking out his former opponent.

"…Um…" Zim started, "…VICTORY! Victory for Ziiiim! Yes, this was my plan from the beginning. Yeah."

Dib shook his head, thanking the almighty Gods of Elevator Doors for his narrow escape.

"Mhmm…" the green boy continued, "Yeah, you should really start working on that score. So far it's ZIM Victory #3 and Dib victory _love._"

"Eh?" the human started, confused by the tennis terminology.

"Don't change the subject, Dib-filth. I was about to ask you a question before my BRILLIANT plan was set into motion. Oh, and I was going to ask you to take your turn now."

"Oh… um…" Dib gave up looking for a way out and sighed dejectedly. "Take me out of this hell-hole and I'll do both at the same time."

"Okay." Zim agreed happily, dragging his once-again hostage out by the arm.

Once they were safely out the door and into the bright clean air, standing stable on the tiled white floor, the blue-clad boy took a breath. He leaned up against the white plaster column along a precarious railing. The top floor of the mall always freaked him out.

It was a funny feeling, almost like a voice inside his chest was whispering _"_Jump, Dib, jump. It won't hurt you. Wouldn't it be fun to fly through the air? To defy the rules for once? I think it would…"

_No_, he ordered himself, _stop thinking like that. It's creepy._

"Ah… okay… Here's the deal. Over the last couple years, I started noticing things like… when they showed girls on music videos, I got really bored, really fast… and when we did the anatomy section last semester, I got more embarrassed by the male section than the female…"

"Oookay" Zim tilted his head. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, the secret is… I really _am _gay."

"Eh?" Zim tilted his head the other way. "What does—OOOOH!"

"Yes," Dib sighed. "But would it _kill you_ to be less conspicuous?!"

"Oh, filthy Earth boy," laughed the invader, "In retrospect, it really was quite obvious… How in the world does the school not know? I mean, this does explain the locker room…"

Dib winced, "Please don't bring that up. And they do, sort of. Well, they don't _know, _but…" the teenager floundered.

"Save your breath, Dib-beast. Zim comprehends your juvenile fears. On the Irken honor of secrecy, I pledge not to tell any other Earth creature of your 'shame'."

"Swear?" he pleaded.

"By the Land and Sky, none shall hear of this from Zim's lips." he solemnly raised a single clawed finger.

"Oh… well… okay." Dib was slightly taken aback. "How come your so normal about this?"

"Silly human," chuckled the space menace, "I'm technically what your classmates would consider 'gay' as well, or has your inferior earth brain forgotten so soon?"

"My brain is not inferior!"

"Is too!"

"It is not!"

"Yes it is!"

"Wanna get some Pizza!?!"

"Yeah!"

* * *

**Me and my beta don't always agree on things. She's BRILLIANT, but her style isn't my style, comprende? So that means that the DA version of the story is quite different fromthis version. Less polished, but more me.**

**I advise you read both. And in other news: Who here reads SWAN? Yeyana got me hooked. She's my enabler XD**

**List of truths :The tallest really do have two fingers, Gaz's real name is Gazlene (NOT Gazeline, as I mistakenly thought), the birthing process is a well supported theory based on the Parent's Night episode, Zim really is defective, the Inferno was written by Dante, and Dib really was abducted by aliens of some sort.**

"Die, die, die my darling- just shut your pretty eyes. I'll be seeing you again... I'll be seein' you in HELL." _Die My Darling,_ Metalica


	9. The Smoothie Parade

Tick for Tack part nine: the Smoothie Parade.

Warnings: evil monkeys, insane principals and doom rants (may cause epileptic seizures)

**Do I even have to say it? I'M SORRY IT'S LATE! You don't even want to hear my excuses. Things kept coming up... I have lots of one shots though. :'D**

* * *

"So…where's Mr. C?" the human wondered, munching on his pizza.

"Dunno," Zim shifted his weight against the wall, look forlorn with his empty plate.

"Then we need to go look for him," Dib decided, taking charge. He nibbled at his pizza-crust for a moment, and then pushed off the pillar.

"Do we have to?" the invader frowned, eyeing the rack of chips in the downstairs food court.

"Yeah, we do. Something tells me that our beloved Principal needs more supervision than we do. Did you see the look he gave those cheerleaders? Scary biscuits."

"Those… horrible… biscuits…" the alien shuddered.

They meandered through irregular pockets of lazy teens and 'hip' parents. Every group was different, running the gamut from jersey clad muscle-heads to scrawny, sallow-faced kids in Tripp pants. Ah, bondage: the ultimate display of independence.

As Zim shoved his companion down the last two stairs, a screech erupted from the proximate taco stands. The boys looked at each other.

"Mr. C," they said in unison, and dashed into the melee.

"Deny me MY salsa, will you? You fuckers are gonna get it!"

There in the crux of the confusion, was the maniac with blades raised and burritos flying. "I'll kill you! KILL YOU!" he took a swipe at the manager, missing decapitation by mere centimeters. "You're DEAD! You—oh, hi boys," he dropped the vendor and skipped over, rage forgotten. "What's up?"

"Mmm… we're ready to head home," Zim answered cooly. "You done here?"

"Uh… yeah. NO! wait, didn't we come here for something?" The insane educator scratched his head in confusion. It was tricky remembering things these days.

"Yeeees… we did, actually. Dib-stink, knock the muffin from your ears and help us!" This was accompanied by a smart rap to the back of Dib's head, which succeeded in rousing the teen from his spiraling confusion.

_Oh god my principal almost killed that guy and nobody even noticed and why aren't the security gaurds coming and what the hell is that lady eating_-

"Oh, right," he muttered, and ignored the smack for the greater good—that good aparently being Zim. Odd. "What was the question again?"

"Why'd I bring you guys here?" supplied the madman.

"Right. We came… we came here…" Dib rubbed his temples. Now would be a good time for a brain blast. "To get… a smoothie!"

"Oh yeah." Mr. C smiled brilliantly and grabbed boy boys by the arm, dragging them across the purple tiles.

Once again, Dib was the prisoner of a nut case.

The Suck Monkey booth was painted a hideous green color, like a primate with an eating disorder was let loose with a can of paint. Scary stuff. Judging by the sounds leaking from the backroom, the monkey was still there. SOMETHING had to be making those noises.

Zim marched up to the counter wrapped in his own ego, and slammed the courtesy bell.

"I want two double chocolate bubblegum suck monkeys and one monster cherry ape," he ordered, and the man behind the counter scrambled to comply. "And chips. Zim DEMANDS CHIPS! Now, food-service drone."

The bewildered man looked at them, eyes sliding over the adult's maniacal grin and the green child's almost tangible narcissism. He shot a pleading look at the third customer—that one looked remotely normal.

"You heard him," Dib shrugged, hiding a grin.

Five minutes and one swarm of demon cockroachs later, they sat down at a questionably clean booth.

"Well, they aren't brainfreezies, but they aren't bad," the teacher noted.

"Yeah, they're pretty good." Dib agreed, taking a sip of GIR's smoothie. "But you don't even want to know what they use for fillers." He shuddered, "It's disgusting. I guess it saves cash though."

"Humans! Inferior brain leaching muffin suckers. They do anything for monies."

"Amen," the elder of the trio sipped his Suck Monkey placidly. "A whole race of consumerist soul killers. They never change until it's too late. I've been around for a long—you wouldn't believe how long if I told you—time, and I know first hand: people never change. Things only get better when they can't get worse."

The man set down his drink, gearing up for a rant.

"It's always one step forward and two steps back. It's like that nuclear bomb that went off back in the 'teens. People are so STUPID, they never think ahead! And look! Thirty years later, and we have cities filled with freaking MUTANTS and they sky is always red! God, I remember what the sky was like in the old days. But it looks like I'm the only one who remembers anything now! Isn't that a laugh! Irony is a fucked up mistress. The Earth is doomed! Do you know how to kill slugs?"

"What?" the younger human did a double take. That was too confounding a non sequitur even for someone who spent all his time with Zim.

"Slugs," repeated the nut case. "You know how they kill them?"

"Uh… no?" Dib really wanted to know how they got into this subject.

"How!" the alien jumped in, "Tell Zim!"

"Okay, they take this big bowl of beer, see? Then they stick it in a hole—somewhere in the back yard, real subtle. Then ta-da! Twenty slugs go into the water, none of 'em come out." The man wore a satisfied grin, quite pleased with himself.

"Hey Dib-beast, y'think we should use that on Torque?" mused Zim.

"It _would_ be funny…"the human reluctantly joined the bizarre conversation. "Bet he'd fall for it too. But I like him…."

Zim made a motion similar to a raised brow. "You LIKE him, do you?"

"Yeah, I—NO! Nooo, not what you're thinking," the boy put his hands up defensively, "It's just that he's helped me out before."

"Why _did_ he help you out anyways? NO ONE helps you."

"I know, right? But I'm really not sure. I guess he just likes me." Dib shrugged, clueless.

"What'd he help you with, exactly?" interjected the principal, looking for all the world like a sane, concerned adult.

"Oh, I made a couple deals with him. Nothing big. I got him to knock off Zim's pak once. 'May not look it," the boy slurped a drink that wasn't his, "but it's really important."

"I almost died," supplied the Irken elite with pride, "But I got it back at the last second."

"Literally" added his nemesis with a grin.

"Good times, good times…."

There was a moment of fond reminiscing.

"...You remind me of one of my guests," noted the insomniac teacher at last, pointing a lazy finger at Dib, "But he was a hobo."

"'Guests'"? Dib repeated, curious about his mysterious principal's life.

"Hm? Oh, yes. I offer my humble home as… a penultimate residence for the dregs of society. I teach them the most important lessons of their lives. Some how I just can't get away from teaching."

"…What kind of lessons?" asked the wary student, visions of the taco-stand incident dancing through his head like demented sugarplums.

"Oh, simple things that define humaity. You know, 'don't judge a book by it's cover', 'if you don't have anything nice to say…' and 'appreciate life because you can't count on a long one'." he twirled his hand, "That stuff. I keep trying to retire but… oh, I just can't seem to give it up. Let's go now, I'm done."

The group exited stage left, Dib carrying GIR's suck monkey.

"Oh, and by the way," offered the maniac, not even glancing back at his charges, "My name's Johnny, but you can call me 'Nny'."

And he trotted off ahead, leaving the boys alone.

"Knee?" the invader wondered, glancing at Dib's legs.

"No…" the earthling corrected slowly, eyes on the thin figure ahead. "I think he means N-N-Y, like the end of his real name."

"What a strange human," mused Zim. "Almost like an Irken. Careful Dib-thing, you wouldn't want your teacher to replace you in Zim's heart."

"You… are insane," the paranormalist deadpanned, and raced off after Johnny C.

* * *

**I sent this to my wonderful beta reader Death By Disco, and some weird crap happened. This always happens! WHY? (and it seems that I have a bad habit of using sterio-types. I BLAME MY FRIENDS)**

**(1) yes, that's a Jimmy neutron reference. Don't kill me!**

**p.s. some diologue directly cut from a web site, no credit taken, faCts belong to The Scary Monkey Show. com **â€


	10. A Proposition Proposed

Tick for Tack part ten (wow, I didn't expect to get this far): Poposition Proposed

**well would you look at that? I'm on time? I believe the world may implode now. I hope you're happy. I have now endangered the safety of the universe as we know it for your sake. Not that you care. (by the way, it's friday in this chapter)**

**--**

Dib sat at his desk, head in hand, listlessly scrolling through brainless articles on his favorite paranormal webzine.

"This is stupid," he muttered to himself. "None of these people have any idea what they're talking about. How may different animals can you attach 'foot' to, before people realize it's a cliché? I mean, 'pigfoot'? Come on."

"Stop whining about your magical crap!" his sister shouted from across the hall.

"Jerk," he whispered back sulkily.

"Don't insult me or I'll rip out your lungs and feed them to rabid weasels!"

Dib was about to reply with a 'where would you get rabid weasels?' when something strange happened. Something so uncanny, so unheard of, he might have to invent a new word for how strange it was.

It was…. BISTICKERHUTZEN!

What exactly was bistickerhutzen, you may ask? Well, it was a small 'ding' from the speaker of the computer, alerting its master that some poor loser had actually EMAILED him. Take pity on their soul.

"A message?" Dib quirked an eyebrow. The only people who sent him anything were junk mailers and a few of the saner Swollen Eyeball members. The organization was mostly built by people who thought computers would take over the earth one day, and email was carried by virtual 'mail goblins' hiding in your hard drive. Because of that, you could count the few that actually corresponded with him on one hand—and this was not one of those fellow para-nerds.

He leaned in quite close, (close enough to get a tan from the radiation) and read the screen name: 'NormalPatheticHyuman'?

"Now who does that sound like?"

After a minute of wracking his brain, he gave up and clicked.

_Hello Dib-stink.  
How are you this horrible Earthen day?_

Oh. That was who it sounded like.

And inside his quite large and equally nutzoid brain, an epic battle raged between the forces of good… and boredom. Wow. This was how their game got started in the first place.

Finally, he came to a decision. _It's gotta be better than pigfoot_, he thought.

_Zim, where did you get this address?_

Deep in the basement of the alien's lab, Zim crossed his arms, put off. Not a great way to start this conversation, but then again, he never was much for tact.

_Nowhere. Certainly not from your secret personal files which I drilled into in the dead of night two days ago._

_What?_

_No time for that, earth-smell. Zim is very busy today and there is a point to this conversation._

_It's nighttime Zim._

_QUESTION ME NOT!_

_Okay, whatever. What was the point?_

Zim sat back in his big insectoid chair. It really was quite hard to keep himself on track. So troublesome, in fact, that at least half his teachers had recommended him for some sort of medication. Like he was really going to take that poisonous crap. It did enough damage to the zombie-children, imagine what it would do to his superior Irken body?

Wait, what was he doing? The invader glanced up at the screen. Oh, that was it.

_The POINT, Hyuman, is that… I have a function, which requires attendance. Particularly the attendance of another HYUMAN child. With me. Just me. At a place. Together._

_You want me to be your DATE?_

My, he caught on quickly. _What's the problem, filth-beast? Don't you WANT to go on a date?_

_Well, yeah, but not with you!_

_Have squirrels nested in your cranial lobe? Why would you NOT wish to venture out in public with the glory of ZIM?_

_Because,_ The human paused for a moment, searching for a good reason_, we're mortal enemies!_

_Dib. We're on truce right now._

_I don't even like you!_

_Oh, come ON. Everyone lurves Zim._

_Well maybe I just don't want to go with you!_

_And who ELSE are you going to go with?_

Dib didn't reply. My, aren't the walls vertical today?

_It'll be fun! And besides, you don't even know where it is,_ the spaceman continued doggedly.

_...Where?_

_It's at a meuseam... museum... thing. A Brief History of the Dead!_

_The exhibit on Ghosts?!_

_Exactly_, the alien grinned. Like a smeet in a armory, he thought gleefully.

_But how the heck did you get tickets? And why do you need a date, on top of that?_

_Eh..._

-Flashback!-

"Zim!" called the older man, tugging at his thinned hair, "Zim! Mister... ah... Yohanasburgenstein?"

The invader had made up that name when he started middle school three years ago. He was quite proud of it.

"Yeeees... whadaya want?" whined the hyperactive student.

"You seem to be having some trouble communicating with your peers, Zim. Is there anything you want to talk about?" simpered the teacher.

"I HAVE NOTHING TO CONFESS!" screeched the invading terror. "There is no impending doom and I am not gathering secret data for an extraterrestrial military invasion!"

"Oh, of course you aren't, silly. I mean, how are things at home? How are your parents?" the man zeroed in with a sickly-compassionate smile.

"Um..." Zim considered the Robotic 'adults', now locked in a comfy padded cell since the last attempted coop de ta. "They're fine."

"I don't believe you!" the man informed him happily, "but as a public school teacher, I have no legal way to control you in any form! So instead I'm going to give you a special assignment! Isn't that fun?"

"Oh, ah... you can't involve my parents, because... uh... they're very sick! With tuberculo... cancer."

"Oh. That's very sad." the educational drone dropped his smile for a moment, then lit up twice as bright, "Then you can prove nothing is wrong with YOU!"

Zim crossed his arms. "How?"

"The magic of social popularity! I just happen to have two extra tickets to the museum opening Saturday. If you can get a date to go with you, I'll lay off your case!" Something sinister crept into his gleeful tones, "If you don't show, I give you a detention for something you didn't do!"

The world went dark for a moment and the classroom burst into hellfire and flames. The 'human's eyes glowed spookily. _"AND STEAL YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL!"_

"ZIM HAS NO SOUL!"

-end flashback-

_... I found them in a watermelon_.

Gir burst in the door to the secret lair with a teapot on his head, thoroughly distracting the ADHD alien. Minimoose floated beside him with a plate of toast.

"Ask da milky-man if he wants some TOAST!" shrilled Zim's defective servant.

"He's not here, he can't eat your filthy toast!" groaned the alien.

"B-but..." the robot's eyes filled with tears, "I maded dem speeeeecial..."

"No, c'mon, don't cry soldier..." the scourge of the Irken Empire vainly tried to stop his underling from crying like a rainstorm. " Look, I'll... uh... Send it to him through the internet! Yeah." his eyes flickered back and forth nervously.

"Yay!" the android brightened instantly.

"Phew." Zim glanced back at the screen, where a message from Dib awaited him.

_Say what?_

_Nevermind_, the irken replied, _are you going with me or not_?

_Well..._ the human teen paused to think about it.

"On the one hand, " he mused aloud, "I really want to see that exhibit, and Dad would never buy me tickets... On the other hand, people will think I'm dating Zim... but on the third hand, what's so terrible about that? I've never cared what people think."

Dib paced for a minute, tapping his pen to his lips automatically.

"I mean, they don't believe he's an alien, so nobody's going to scream 'XENOPHILE!'." (That was a word he picked up in the shadier corners of the Swollen Eye Network.) "And I have been looking for a way to come out without embarrassing myself to hell and back..."

Then pen stilled it's frantic motion.

_Alright, meet me here at nine tomorrow night_ the paranormalist typed.

"After all," he muttered to himself, "Spending time with Zim is usually fun... er... informative. Yeah."

"Stop ANGSTING, you whiner!" came a deafening shout from the other room.

ps. It's freaky how Gaz can hear me from across the hall

From across the hall: "I HEARD THAT!"

!  


* * *

**so... yeah. that wasn't very long. Sorry. But I'm kinda stuck in this other story I'm writing--Death Note AU. And Animehpgurl has suckered me into writing more Bevin. And here I thought I was doing this as a relaxing hobby... oh well. More soonish**

**p.s. you know, I'm still open to theories if you have any.**

comments? Critique?


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